(no subject)

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Bar presents Ryan with a collar on his next visit. It's an odd looking thing, with a dial, an odd knob, a light, and two empty pockets set in leather strap. He looks it over, then asks her quite plainly, "What am I to do with this?"

For Damocles.

Damocles? Well, the dog didn't have one, for Ryan had never seen the need, but perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea. Dam, sit.

Yes, sir. The Doberman sits, tail wagging, ears pricked curiously. What's that?

A collar. It's something to tell people you have a pack, so they won't think you're a stray, Ryan explains, kneeling to fasten the thing around Dam's neck. Since you can't tell them yourself.

"Yeah, I don't speak English."

Ryan and the dog both freeze, and despite the vastly different features, both wear near the same expression of shock.

...did you just talk?

"Yes?" Says the collar as Dam says it in canine, the light on the collar glowing red. "I did! This is great! Now everyone can understand me!"

Ryan's pretty sure this is a bad thing.

Comments

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"That," he says, voice dropping to something close to a growl, "depends entirely upon the situation."

[hell_in_highheels]

There's a glint in her eye, and she gives him a cheeky wink.

"Oh if you insist. C'mon. I'll buy you lunch."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That earns her an appreciative rumble that has absolutely nothing to do with things that are not food.

The fastest way to a werewolf's heart is definitely through the stomach.